But, unlike my romance-obsessed BFF, I am not someone who gets carried away by fantasies of love. Sure, Nick is hot, and okay, maybe I’ve had a couple of daydreams where he pins me against the brick wall of the coffee shop and rubs my face raw with his stubble, but there are lots of hot people in the world who aren’t my boss. And since I kind of need this job, and I really need to keep my personal life as drama-free as possible, I think I’ll stick to dating people who aren’t intertwined in any other area of my life. Because taking care of my dad is messy enough, and I don’t really need anyone else’s feelings to worry about.

If only I could stop being so damn awkward around him.

My phone buzzes. It’s Tracey Liu, the receptionist at my dad’s care facility.

“Do you think you could check in for a minute when you get a chance? Your dad’s having an episode.”

Chapter Two

I find Nick in his office and tell him I’m going. Another reason why Nick is a great boss, despite his abysmal taste in music: he’s always okay with me leaving, on no notice, to take care of my dad.

“Let me know how it goes, okay?” he says, concern in his deep brown eyes as he places a hand on my arm. I jerk my arm back so fast that I bump into the shelf behind me and knock an entire box of pencils onto the floor.

“Um, I . . .” I stammer, trying my best to get my bearings. I was fine until Nick touched me, that jerk. Reason #8: Have you even seen the way he grabs Zoe before he kisses her in the rain?

“I’ll get them—you just get out of here,” he says, and I exit his office with a wave.

I don’t drive to work since Nick’s is just a couple of blocks from my place, so I briskly walk down the brick sidewalks of German Village. This is why I usually wear flats or brightly colored sneakers—brick sidewalks are death traps if you’re wearing heels. The early spring air is just slightly chilly, but the sun is hidden behind the perpetually cloudy Ohio skies, making it feel colder than it is. I wrap my mustard yellow pea coat more tightly around myself as I walk past the beautiful homes and businesses.

A short drive later, I buzz the door at Dad’s facility and wait to be let in. The potential bad mood is coming over me, so I take a deep breath. Inhale positivity. Exhale stress. I smile along with my exhale, willing myself to be Good Mood Chloe for my dad, regardless of what greets me on the other side of the door.

Because no matter what I find—no matter what condition my dad is in—this is my responsibility. It’s not my twin brother Milo’s, because he lives in Brooklyn in an apartment I’ve never visited, on account of I can’t fathom leaving my dad that long. And it sure as hell isn’t my mom’s, considering that she bounced right out of our lives when she left us for some dude she met on the Internet when Milo and I were ten.